The Papillon of Dublin
by Justine Themis
Summary: When Artemis was six years old, he solved the mystery of the stolen Mayoral Jewels of Dublin. One Shot. Inspired by the Gnommish codes in the first Artemis Fowl book.


**A very short one-shot set six years pre-series. This is based on the Gnommish Codes at the bottom of the first book. I will give the translation at the bottom just in case no one knows what I am talking about.  
Happy Reading!**

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**The Papillon of Dublin**

******_By Justine Themis_**

_"__The city of Dublin awoke this morning to a devastating realization that the Lord Mayor's Jewels have been stolen. Mayor Papillon reported the precious jewels missing yesterday…"_

The six year old Artemis sat patiently on his family's twin-sofa, his tiny hands gripped around the sides of the morning newspaper he had been reading for the past twenty or so minutes. A Saturday morning for a six and a half year old would normally involve trips to the park or messy hours of finger painting. However, Artemis saw no profitable or knowledgeable benefit from either profound activity and preferred to sit peaceful in his manor den with the 'Dublin Chronicles', learning with little interest of the current events in Ireland.

"Can you believe this Butler?" said the six year old impatiently.

The bodyguard sat quietly on the opposite side of the room, casually inserting bullets into a small caliber, "Believe what, Artemis?" replied Butler.

Artemis remained still in his seat as he re-read the newspaper column once more, "_This_. With all the manslaughter and arson going on in the world, _this_ is the best news they could come up with? Stolen Mayoral Jewels. The _Mayor's_, Butler. Not the _Crown_ Jewels or something more valuable. There's _hardly_ any profit in such low-rank jewelry."

Butler gave a heavy sigh as he finished loading his firearm, "Artemis, I'm not sure your mother would appreciate you reading things like that."

"It's only news, Butler," Artemis's brow dented into a frown, "besides; mother is far too busy attending her Pink Ribbon campaign meeting to bother disagreeing with whatever trivia I read."

_Only, he says_, thought the bodyguard grimly, "But perhaps it would give your mother some ease if you watched children's program instead, like the Teletubbies." he suggested.

"Teletubbies? Please, Butler. Why on Earth would I waste my time watching obese deformities trod around eating pink custard with workable televisions produced outside their stomachs? It makes no sense and _hardly_ contributes to any child's growing knowledge."

Butler shrugged his heavy shoulders, "Never-mind then, Artemis. Maybe another time."

Artemis rolled his eyes, muttering something about how absurd the bodyguard sounded before he returned his attention back to the newspaper in his hands:

"_The mayor will be holding a prolonged conference today in front of his house on Dawson Street at three P.M…" _

"Butler," the six year old said, "perhaps it's time to take a trip to the capital, don't you think?"

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Lord Mayor Papillon was the hundred and fifth Mayor of Dublin. At the age of sixty-two, he was a small, elderly man with wisps of thinning hair combed over her bald head.

He stood, confident and proud even though his shoulders slumped, in front of his Mansion House as the road of Dawson Street filled with journalists and other curious onlookers wishing to get an insight into the missing jewels case.

"Mayor Papillon, have the police received any information of the missing jewels?" asked one reporter at the front of the crowd.

The Mayor shook his head solemnly, "I'm afraid not. The thief had left no clues." he said sadly.

The reporter nodded and began writing notes on his brown notepad. Instantaneously the rest of the crowd began screaming and yelling their bantering questions at the Mayor in a vain chance of collecting material for their articles.

"Do you have any idea how the jewels were stolen?" questioned another reporter eagerly.

Again, Mayor Papillon shook his head and his face fell, "No. The safe was secured greatly and the glass case was undamaged." He sighed, "Only a special key and code can open the safe."

A lot of agreement and confusion followed as several people began writing and scribbling onto their notepads.

"Are there anymore questions?" asked a security guard at the Mayor side, his scarily serious expression hidden behind thick sunglasses.

A single, small hand rose at the back of the crowd and Mayor Papillon could make out a small body sat upon the shoulders of a much larger brute holding onto him tightly by the ankles.

"Yes, the boy in the back." The Mayor said, a sweet grin on his face.

A path was made in the direction of the boy and a light snickering came from several reporters to see a six year old Artemis Fowl sat on his bodyguard hefty shoulders, his arm raised and a serious expression on his childish face.

Butler plucked Artemis from his shoulders and settled him gently down on the pavement.

"What's your question, little boy?" Papillon asked cheekily, looking down at the child.

Artemis frowned at the Mayor as he patted down his suit jacket. He walked through the small path made for him by the crowd and stood a mere few feet away from the Lord Mayor. "My question is this, Lord Mayor _Papillon_, do you, perhaps, know what a Nymphalidae is?"

A much louder chuckle sounded through the crowd of on-lookers, even the Mayor had to let out a small snicker. Granted, he had been expecting a childish question, but nothing so preposterous.

"Little boy, this is a conference of serious matter, not mythological-"

"A Nymphalidae is a type of butterfly, Mister Mayor. A Brush-footed butterfly, to be precise. They are the largest family of butterflies, divided into a number of subfamilies, genera and species." Artemis cut-in quickly, a tiny smirk twisted into his lips as he saw a bead of sweat form of the Mayor's brow. "Do you, by any chance, know the names of three types of butterflies, Mayor Papillon?"

The Mayor remained silent as the paparazzi began the whisper to one-another, each confused by the small boy's question, until the Mayor shook his head sheepishly. "N-no, I'm afraid I do not."

Artemis nodded, "That's all I need to know, _Mayor_." he said as he walked slowly back to where he had been previously, taking a wooden chair in his hands and took it to the front of the crowd before standing on it.

"Journalist, reporters," he addressed casually, "this man is _not_ Mayor Papillon."

A series of gasped increased throughout the entire street, glances and questioning faces crossed between the Mayor and the small boy excusing him of not being who he was.

The "Mayors" face began to sweat bullets, "L-little boy, what on earth are you talking about, of course I'm-"

"You are _not_ Mayor Papillon." Artemis said again. It wasn't a suggestion or theory, it was a fact. "Why? Simply because you have no common knowledge the_ real_ Mayor would have."

All attention was on the six year old now, pens out eager to write the discovery down for tomorrow's headlines. Butler stood at the back of the group, arms crossed against his chest as he too listened to Artemis's deduction.

"Eric Papillon - who you are trying to mimic - was a well-known and very keen butterfly collector. I asked you, as my first question, if you knew what a Nymphalidae was. In which you did not answer. Mister Papillon was famous for his knowledge and research in the Nymphalidae so it seemed unusual for you not to know even its _name_."

Muttering began in the paparazzi and the "Mayor's" eyes suddenly began darting around the small street, searching for a silver line or escape from the situation. More sweat surfaced on his face, despite the cold Irish air.

"Which also draws us to why you couldn't answer the second question. Surely a butterfly expert could name at least three of the seventeen-thousand known types in the world?"

Artemis took a deep breath before asserting his voice louder, "In my opinion, the Mayor's jewels could not have been stolen from such a secure vault or simply taken from around the Mayor's neck with any notice. This man is nothing but an impostor."

Artemis's speech was followed by silence; all the reporters and journalists had stopped their muttering and whispering and stared blankly at the boy. Artemis smirked, thinking he had won with his deduction until a small snicker made its way through the quietness and immediately others soon followed. The crowd erupted into a fit of laughter.

"What a silly boy." said one reporter.

"What cartoons has the child been watching?" said another in-between giggles, "Impostors? Butterflies?"

Artemis frowned; he did not take kindly to his deduction being laughed at. The truth was right in front of them but the paparazzi were too simpleminded to consider the facts, let alone the truth. However, among the crowd one reporter had not set into fit of giggles. A small, blonde haired man in a brown suit stood at the back was scanning the Mayor with deep analysis.

"Listen to the boy." The man said, walking up to where Artemis was still stood on the chair. "I deduce that we have the Mayor fingerprinted. If he is who he says he is, there is nothing to worry about. However, we cannot pass up this opportunity. Our precious city jewels are _missing _people!"

The crowd once again went quiet and one-by-one they began to nod and agree. "Yeah, give the Mayor a D.N.A test!" shouted one and a cheer shortly followed.

Artemis smirked. "There you go, "Mayor", now if you would-" he paused when he turned back to face the apparent impostor Papillon, only to see his current standing position empty and his far off figure off in the distance running at full speed.

"He's making a run for it!" shouted one guard who immediately set off in a sprint after the impostor.

"After him!" yelled several reporters and immediately the all charged in a packed run towards the direction the "mayor" was escaping through.

Artemis raised an eyebrow; he had anticipated him running but never knew such an old man could run so fast. He sighed, "Ah well, _que sera sera_." he muttered in a light exhaustion as he stepped down from his chair. "Come on Butler, we're leaving."

Butler nodded as the six year old walked back over to him, "You're not going to see how it turns out?" he asked with slight curiosity.

"No," Artemis said simply as he walked back to the car. "I didn't come here to catch a thief, I came to get rid of pathetic criminals like _that_." the corner of his mouth twisted into a smirk, "It was a petty crime, Butler. He is an insult to all criminal masterminds."

"_Dublin is proud to announce that after only two days after the reported offense of the thievery of the Mayor's Jewels, the police have reported that they have located the jewels along with the true Mayor! During a press-conference, a presumed six-year-old boy name Artemis Fowl had discovered that the person we believed to be Mayor was in fact an impostor. Just before the conference ended, the impostor took off into a sprint across Dublin. He was later apprehended and took into questioning. Documents and a positive D.N.A test confirm that the imposter was in fact the Mayor's twin brother, Derek Papillon, who had been presumed dead. His plans were to kidnap the original Mayor and imprison him in a warehouse in the south of the city while his gang looted the Mayoral Mansion!"_

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**"The first reference to Artemis Fowl in the human media is in a newspaper article from Dublin chronicle. Artemis made the paper by solving the riddle of the mayor of Dublin's chains. **

**The mayor held a press conference, to appeal for help after the cities priceless chains of office were stolen. Artemis managed to persuade his bodyguard to bring him along.**

**When the reporters had finished asking their questions, Artemis raised his hand. The Mayor allowed the small boy to ask his question, expecting something simple and childlike. Instead Artemis asked him, to name three kinds of butterfly.**

**When the mayor could not answer, Artemis stood on his chair and addressed the journalists present. He told them that in his opinion the mayoral chains could not have been stolen from the secure vault or taken from around the mayor's neck without his knowledge. So this man could not be the mayor, he must be an imposter.**

**The proof of this was that the real mayor was a keen butterfly collector and would most certainly have been able to answer Artemis' question. Most journalists laughed, but one did not. He suggested that the mayor allow himself to be fingerprinted.**

**The man calling himself mayor panicked and ran.**

**It was later discovered that this man was indeed an imposter. He was the mayors own twin brother.**

**The real mayor was being held in a warehouse in the south of the city. The plan was to hold him for a week while his twin's gang looted the mayoral mansion and cashed the insurance cheque for the ceremonial chains.**

**Artemis Fowl was six years old when he foiled this plan."**

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**Thank you for reading;  
Much Love,  
~ Justine Themis**


End file.
